


Atonement

by whompwhomp



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Violence, Branding, Captivity, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, Multi, Revenge, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whompwhomp/pseuds/whompwhomp
Summary: A young man finds himself at the mercy of two masked tormentors who are determined to punish him for his crimes.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 12





	1. The Jackal and The Lioness

Ash awoke to a pain in the back of his skull threatening to split his head in twain. A pained groan escaped his lips as his body shifted uncomfortably on the cold floor. Suddenly he had the alarming awareness that his wrists were tightly bound behind his back. It only took a few tugs with the rope biting into his skin to realize that his struggles were futile. He cracked his eyes open and blearily glanced around the room, his thoughts muddled with pain and confusion. Where the hell was he? The room was large and dimly lit, lined with nondescript concrete walls. In one corner a spiral metal staircase circled down into the room.With some effort he was able to sit up, his bindings already rubbing his wrists raw. 

His racing thoughts were only outpaced by the beat of his heart. The last thing he could remember was meeting up with Carlos for drinks. Sitting atop the hood of his old beat up Nissan Stanza with a 6 pack. Ash winced, teeth clenched as the throbbing pain in his head briefly cut through his thoughts. He let out a low breath as he tried to think back, but his memories seemed to stop there. That just left one thing to do he supposed.

“Hello?” He called out, trying to ignore the high pitched strain of his voice. The sound reverberated around the room. “Somebody, please!” 

First there was only the sound of blood pounding in his head and then the creaking of floorboards overhead. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly raised his gaze. Regret and a cold sense of impending doom suddenly seized his body as the sounds of footsteps grew louder. He couldn’t help feeling he made a terrible mistake and instead of alerting any nearby good Samaritans he simply alerted his captors to his consciousness. 

A door creaked open. His gaze drew up the stairs to the corner of the room, where two masked figures entered and began descending the steps. One was a dark skinned woman wearing a black jackal mask, her thick, wavy hair haloed out in an angle behind her. The second was a stocky man in a fierce lioness mask, his sleeveless top exposing two startlingly thick, hairy arms.

Ash found himself scrambling back at the sight of them until his bound arms were flush with the cool concrete wall behind him. Their appearance seemingly confirmed that whispering fear that he had tried to contain in the back of his mind, these two were not his friends. Clearing his throat he decided now was the time for some sensible begging. “Please, I don’t know why you are-

The man in the lioness mask crossed the room with alarming speed and Ash’s pleas were silenced by a powerful slap which toppled him roughly to his side. The pained yelp that escaped his mouth was lost in the cracking sound of the impact. He let out a low sob as the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. The Lioness’s rough hand found the back of his neck and forcefully pulled his body up from the ground and back into a sitting position. 

“You speak when spoken to, little _koshka_.” The Lioness said, words heavy with a foreign accent. 

Ash raised his eyes to the hulking form of the man before him before letting his head nod in shameful obedience. The Lioness stepped to the side and the Jackal filled his field of vision. She stood patiently, unnervingly quiet, as the impassive eyes of the mask bored into him. He could feel blood pounding in his ears as he sat under her withering gaze. Finally, mercifully, she spoke.

“I have weighed your heart and found it wanting.” The Jackal spoke, “You shall not know the peace of death until you have been purged of evil.”

Death.

“What the fu-”

The Lioness’s powerful hand found its way to the back of his head, and with a fistful of hair yanked back to his direction. Ash winced at the stinging pain in his scalp. “I have made myself clear, little _koshka_. Do not try my patience.”

Silence. That’s right, the big guy wanted silence. Wide-eyed, Ash gazed frightfully at the mask until his hair was released with a shove. He shot the Lioness one last scandalized look before turning his attention back to the Jackal.

“We shall purify your soul, free it from the taint of your crimes. Only then can it be allowed into the afterlife.”

Afterlife. There it was again. The threat of the Lioness’s presence did nothing to stop him from lunging forward on his knees. These fucking psychos were going to kill him. “Crimes!? I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have the wrong guy! Please!” Ash never did know when to shut up.

Shockingly the Lioness walked toward the back of the room, away from him. Before he could feel relieved, however, the Jackal let out a low laugh. “The wrong guy?” She slowly stalked forward, “We know exactly who you are, Ash Rigby, and we have seen your heart.”

Ash felt his throat constricting in fear as she spoke his name. What the hell were these crimes she was talking about? He couldn’t even recall ever jaywalking. The Lioness had started moving back towards him again with heavy footsteps. Ash’s eyes shot to a knife in the man’s hands.

“No, no, you can’t…” He pleaded weakly. His arms pressed desperately into the wall behind him as his feet tried to push him back out of this situation.

“First you shall be shorn of your dignity.” The Jackal continued. “Nothing will hide the wickedness of your soul from our eyes.”  
Ash started openly sobbing as the Lioness knelt beside him and began cutting his clothes off. “Please, I have no idea what you are talking about. Please, I'll do anything. I’ll give you anything, just don’t do this.” The man worked silently, his knife efficiently ripping through the layers of his clothes. Finally he grasped the rags that were left and tossed them idly aside, before rising and once again retreating to the back of the room. Leaving him exposed to the merciless eyes of the Jackal.

“Just as God set a mark upon the first murderer Cain, we shall set a mark upon you. All who see you shall know your crimes.” Ash’s eyes followed the gesture of her hands over to the Lioness, to see the blue flame of a blow torch with the end of the rod in the flame. These goddamn psychopaths were going to brand him...

“Jesus Christ. Fuck. You can’t do this, please!” He could not tear his eyes away from the flame. “I don’t know what you think I did but I swear it wasn’t me. Please, just don’t- you can’t- stop heating that thing up!” His voice cracked in desperation. This couldn’t be real. They couldn’t seriously...

“Shall I gag the little _koshka_?” The gruff voice of the Lioness asked.

The fixed gaze of the Jackal mask seemed to hauntingly meet his own. “No,” Her voice was low. “I want to hear him scream.”


	2. The Flame Kissed Iron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jackal reveals the first punishment for Ash's crimes.

The lyrical hum of grasshoppers filled the night, and the sky was just clear enough for Ash to admire the stars. Carlos sat silently beside him on the hood of his beat up old Nissan Stanza, parked in a clearing of a small woodland copse they played in as boys. It had been their hideout, their fort. The place they would go to smoke and shoot cans with his uncle’s revolver.

A neglected cigarette was burning in Carlos’s hand, the fraction of it which burned into ash had almost reached that point of critical mass before gravity would simply just pull it down to Earth. His gaze was distant, and Ash was afraid that if he broke the silence his friend would never share what was weighing on his mind. Sometimes Carlos was like this, withdrawn...distant. Experience had long taught Ash patience. He would talk when he was ready.

Ash took a sip of his beer, grimacing a bit as the now warm liquid filled his mouth. How quickly the muggy summer evening had overpowered the original chill of the can. 

“You talk to June lately?” Carlos’s low voice pulled Ash from his thoughts, and he turned to glance at his friend whose gaze was still trained off into the distance. 

“Not lately, no.” He answered, feeling a little bit ashamed as he was reminded of the distance that had grown between him and the woman who used to be one of his closest friends. “Why, did something happen?”

Carlos gave a noncommittal shrug and scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “Naw, mom was just asking about her recently. Been worried about her living in the city all alone, y’know?”

Ash nodded. He had been blindsided when June had told them she was moving, and had probably thought of a hundred different reasons to try to make her stay. All those reasons died before they reached his tongue, though. She was not the type of person who could be swayed once she made up her mind.

A snap in the distance made Ash sit up in alarm. “Did you hear that?” He asked, eyes scanning the surrounding darkness. The headlights of his car only illuminated a short distance before them.

“It was probably just like a squirrel or chipmunk or something, man,” Carlos responded tiredly, snubbing out the tip of his cigarette.

“Yeah,” Ash agreed weakly, his posture relaxing only slightly. The silence returned between them, and he was surprised to find Carlos’s dark gaze upon him. “Something wrong, man?” He asked weakly. Before his friend could answer he heard another rustle around them, it sounded closer.

“Ash,” Carlos said, hand reaching out and gently touching his face. A gesture that made his breath catch in his throat and previously unthought of possibilities whisper in the back of his mind. His brows knit in confusion, but there was hope in his eyes. And then it seemed as if Carlos was moving closer to him, close enough that he noticed for the first time how dark and long his eyelashes were.

Another sound, alarmingly closer broke the spell. Ash turned to look when suddenly he felt lips brush across his cheek. “I’m sorry man…” A whispered apology. Ash opened his mouth to respond, but that was the last thing he remembered.

\---

The Jackal’s boot came down heavily on his back, forcing him to topple faceforward to the ground. His chin landed heavily on the concrete flooring causing his teeth to bite into his tongue. A pained wail escaped his lips, and he could feel the blood trickling down his chin. The Jackal’s boot then found its place between his shoulder blades, pinning his chest to the floor.

Ash was openly screaming now, thrashing to and fro violently in a desperate attempt to escape his two deranged captors. His head still throbbed from the blow he could only assume was used to knock him out, and the stinging ache of the Lioness’s slap still lingered in his face. Mouthful of blood he cried out wordlessly as he desperately squirmed under the boot. He couldn’t take any more pain.

The pressure on his back vanished, but before he could even move an inch a powerful kick took him in the side. The boot had found its way back on his back and Ash let out a cry of despair. His face was wet from tears, snot, and blood. He had to get away. They couldn’t do this!

“It’s going to hurt more if you keep struggling,” The Jackal said airily, as if she was a mother patiently trying to cajole a child and not a fucking psychopath who was going to _brand_ him with an iron.

“Let it hurt more,” The gruff voice of the Lioness spoke matter-of-factly. “He will learn from the pain. Grow from it.”

“You’re goddamn crazy!” Ash howled, refusing to think about how his strength was waning as he continued to struggle. “Get the fuck off me. Christ, I said let me go dammit.” 

The Lioness approached him, heated rod in fist. “Please, no, I’ll do anything. Pl-” His words turning into an agonized scream as the rod pressed firmly into his arm, just below his elbow. Burning through skin and into his flesh. White hot excruciating pain beyond anything he had ever felt or imagined. There was no relief to the rod pulling back, if anything the air touching to burned flesh seemed to intensify the pain. Heat visually rising from the wound. The rope binding him continued to bite deeper into his flesh as he tried so desperately to rip his hands free. 

“One down seven to go, little _koshka._ ” The Lioness told him, walking back to the workbench with the blowtorch heating up more irons.

“No, God no!” He cried out, if he had to endure that seven more times he would die. It was impossible, he could not survive that again. There was no way. Ash somehow found the strength to squirm under the Jackal’s boot more.  
“We had these made just for you, don’t tell me you aren’t grateful.” The Jackal responded in mock offense. The heel of her boot grounded even more painfully into his back, but not even that could distract from the agony that coursed through his arm.

He could hear the heavy steps of the Lioness coming toward him. “No! Ple-” The iron made contact to his flesh, right next to the first burn. Ash’s voice cracked in his scream, his throat already going raw. He buried his face into the concrete beneath him, sobbing hysterically. His breath was catching in his throat, and he did not think he would be able to continue breathing at this rate. It just hurt too damn much.

Six more times the Lioness subjected him to the iron. By the time the weight of the boot left his back, Ash had dissolved into a sobbing, hiccuping mess, incapable of stringing sounds into words. His left arm was an inflamed mess. Seared into his flesh were letters he didn’t understand, permanently marking him with a label he could not read.

доносчик


	3. Picking up the Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lioness tends to Ash's wounds.

Ash had long since been reduced into an incoherent sobbing mess. He did not react when the rope binding his wrists and ankles was cut, nor did he protest when an iron manacle was affixed to his leg. His arm was so wracked with agony he even longed for the prospect of cutting it off. No one could survive pain like this, and his body’s refusal to just let him pass out from shock felt like a betrayal. Even his cries hurt after screaming his voice so completely raw.

“This is just the beginning,” the Jackal promised, “we still have much to do to purify your soul. For now I leave you to contemplate your sins. Let your mark serve as a reminder of the evil that has brought you here.” 

Her words meant nothing to Ash. There was nothing but the burning pain that seemed to course through his very veins like fire. Footsteps echoed through the room as she left, leaving him alone with the Lioness, the one who silently inflicted so much pain without hesitation.

Strong hands pulled him up from the floor and sat his back against the wall. He was alarmed to see the Lioness had turned his mask, revealing the man’s face. The Lioness’s eyes were icy blue, and his shortly cropped hair a very pale blonde. His face was not angry, as if he hated Ash, or even happy as if he enjoyed inflicting pain, rather a horrifying neutral expression. The expression of a man who was doing something mundane, like washing the dishes or checking his mail box. Not the expression of a man who had burned cyrillic letters into the flesh of a stranger.

_"Ti menya pany-mai-esh?”_

“Why?” Ash managed to wail through sobs.

The Lioness sighed before reaching out and cuffing him across the head lightly. “You talk too much. I keep saying this.” The man then retreated to the back of the room and seemed to be rifling through various things on a shelf.

Ash slumped forward, chin to his chest. His tears had run dry, probably 3 letters burnt into his arm ago. The sound of footsteps alerted him of the Lioness’s return to his side.

He flinched when the Lioness grabbed his arm and tried to pull it back, but failed to break his grasp. “Please,” He begged weakly. “No more, just please…”

“Quiet, little _koshka._ ” He grunted. Ash could see a cotton swab in his hand, and his cries grew louder as the Lioness began to gently dab the burns in his arm with an ointment, reigniting the agony. “Cease this noise, treatment must be applied.” 

“Why are you even bothering after what you did to me,” He asked petulantly, wishing the man would just leave him alone. Wishing he could just dunk his arm into the Arctic ocean and let it cold numb his nerves.

“The purpose is the hurting. It still hurts, yes?” The Lioness raised a thick brow and gave him a calculating look before returning his attention to the mark on his arm. “Much better when I first hit you. Unconscious immediately. Very peaceful.”

“You knocked me out?!” Ash exclaimed, not entirely sure why this information was coming as a surprise. The head pain he had awoken to still lingered, yet was currently back seat to the anguish his arm had been subjected to. “I could have a concussion!”

“Small one,” He answered, holding his index finger and thumb close together. “Very tiny one.”

“What the hell is wrong with you guys? I could have a severe brain injury!”

“First time, ehh, not too serious.” The Lioness responded flippantly. “Do not be hit again. You will be fine.”

“You were the one who hit me!” Ash exclaimed, before the blood drained from his face. The frustration and anger he had felt over his treatment these past few hours and him retorting before even considering the potential repercussions of speaking to his torturer like that. Luckily the Lioness seemed unperturbed. He had finished applying the ointment to his burnt flesh, and was gathering up the cotton swabs he had used. 

Flashes of his memory before being knocked out. By all accounts of logic it would be wise to bite his damn tongue. The Lioness had indicated many times that he preferred him silent, and the torment which inflamed his arm was a reminder of what his captor was capable of, but he didn’t know if he could live with himself if he didn’t ask.

“When you first uh…hit me.” He started, choosing the Lioness’s own vivid description of the event. “There was another guy with me. You guys didn’t hit him, did you?”

The Lioness’s hand went up to his chin and… my god, did this dude actually have to think about the question? Ash could feel bile rising in his throat at the thought of Carlos also getting the same sort of VIP treatment somewhere else. Finally, for what seemed like an eternity, the burly man stopped rubbing his chin. 

“This man is fine. No keys to car, but walking is good for clearing the mind. Yes?” The Lioness nodded, pleased with his answer.

For the first time since he had been down here Ash began to feel hope. If this man was telling the truth then they hadn’t hurt Carlos. Which means Carlos could get help, right? He’d go to the police and tell them what happened and soon people would be looking for him. There was the issue that he didn’t know where the hell he was, but cops had a way of figuring that shit out right? 

Ash looked down at his inflamed red arm and examined the angry looking marks marking his flesh. He still didn’t know what it meant, and honestly he was a little afraid to ask. All he knew was he didn’t think he would be able to wait much longer for the Calvary to arrive. What he wouldn’t give for some painkillers.


End file.
